Page 25

I rush through my post-show routine, barely bothering to change my sweat-soaked shirt before heading to the VIP lounge. Rita gives me a surprised look as I brush past her.

"Someone's eager tonight,"

"I'm just being professional," I reply, looking around the room as we enter.

She's there, hanging back near the bar with another woman. She's even more stunning up close. Her olive skin glows under the lights, she has full lips, and eyes that seem to change color when she moves. She's not dressed like the typical groupies in their barely-there outfits. She's wearing jeans and a vintage band tee that hugs curves I immediately want to explore with my hands.

I force myself to go through the motions with the other fans, signing autographs, taking selfies, giving the occasional hug. But my attention keeps drifting to her. She doesn't push forward like the others, just watches with an amused expression while her friend practically bounces with excitement.

Finally, they approach me. The friend, a petite with bright eyes and a ponytail, thrusts an album at me.

"Oh my god, I've been to twelve of your shows and this was absolutely the best one yet, you were amazing, I can't believe I'm actually meeting you!" she gushes in one breath.

I smile and sign her album. "Thanks for coming out. Twelve shows? You sure are dedicated."

"I'm Emily," she says, then nudges the curly-haired woman forward. "And this is Dahlia. She's never seen you live before; can you believe it?"

Dahlia. It fits her perfectly.

"First timer, huh?" I say, meeting her eyes. "Did you enjoy the show?"

"More than I expected," she answers, her voice lower and richer than I imagined.

"Is that a compliment or an insult?" I ask.

"Best bet it's a compliment" She hands me her album to sign. "You're different on stage than I expected."

Our fingers brush as I take it, and holy shit, it's like touching a live wire. From the slight widening of her eyes, I know she felt it too.

"Different how?" I uncap my Sharpie without taking my eyes off her.

"I've never been to a concert before, but I've never felt this energy from any performer before."

"Music's the only thing worth feeling sometimes. It's my escape I guess."

She tilts her head and studies me. "Is that why you do that thing where you close your eyes during the bridge of every song, to feel it more?"

I freeze. No one has ever noticed that before.

"You were watching me pretty closely,"

"You were watching me too," she counters with the hint of a smile playing at her lips.

Behind her, Emily's eyes bounce between us like she's watching a tennis match.

"Maybe I was," I admit, handing the album back. This time, I deliberately let our fingers linger. "There's an after-party in an hour. You should come. Both of you," I add, glancing at Emily.

Emily squeaks, and Dahlia raises an eyebrow.

"Is that your standard line for pretty girls in the VIP section?"

"No," I say truthfully. "Usually, I don't invite fans at all."

"Why us, then?"

"Because you're the first person who's made me curious in a very long time."

She studies me for a moment, then nods. "Okay."